


The Last Word

by Skelestiel (captainsagexx)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Smut, literally straight smut, lots of the f word, well there's sort of a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsagexx/pseuds/Skelestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just -- just stop.” He mutters, and Dean knows Cas is hoping it’s the last of the conversation. But he refuses -- he has to get the last word, whether or not Castiel likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Word

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Since this is my second smut fic ever, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you so much!

Dean doesn’t even know how they’ve gotten to this point.  
He’s standing over the table, brow furrowed in frustration. He can’t believe what Cas just said -- he’s nearly shaking in shock from his bitter words.  
“Dean, no matter what you say, I’ll be _fine_. I don’t need you checking in on me every twenty minutes.” he had growled, blue eyes shrouded in an angry haze.  
“Oh, what, so I’m some overprotective father now?” Dean replied, realizing that he’d taken at _least_ thirty seconds to let the sting of those words set in. Cas was stating his independence, letting him know he rely on him as much anymore, and, as ridiculous as it sounded repeated in Dean’s mind, it hurt. Part of him did want to slap himself in the face for being such an _idiot_ ; he was overbearing and needed to take it down a notch and Castiel could take care of himself, a damn _angel of the lord_ didn’t need the hunter’s protection.  
“No, you’re not overprotective, Dean. You’re just--” Cas pauses, like he’s exploring all the options and consequences for all the answers he could give. “I feel like you’ve just lost your faith in me.”  
Dean shakes his head, unwilling to let Castiel live this down. He can’t speak, for the angel is standing up and meeting him eye-to-eye, speaking again, only softer now.  
“Just -- just stop.” He mutters, and Dean knows Cas is hoping it’s the last of the conversation. But he refuses -- he _has_ to get the last word, whether or not Castiel likes it.  
So he takes a chance, raises his eyebrows, crosses his arms across his broad chest, and replies,  
“Make me.”  
Something flicks on in the both of them, a light switch, connected to _something_ \-- neither of them have any clue _what_.  
Castiel doesn’t shift, but Dean’s body relaxes slightly. Their gazes are locked on each other, and they stay that way until Dean’s eyes are searching Cas’ face, hoping for a sign, anything. It's beginning to grow uncomfortable between the two -- and Dean mutters something inaudible (though honestly, it was just gibberish in Dean’s failed attempt to lighten the situation) before crashing into Cas.  
They’re kissing, pushing into one another at such a force, such an _amazing_ speed it almost sends Dean flailing on the floor below them. He started it, but Cas was finishing it -- he was determined, too. _That motherfucker wants to get the last word._  
Dean spots Cas’ intentions (though it’s hard to think when his tongue is pushing into his mouth) and manages to make a noise in the kiss that forces Cas’ eyes open. He too sends a hum into the kiss when he groans a little against Dean’s mouth, and it’s communication simply by moans in this unexpected (but _really fucking sexy_ ) make-out session.  
And no, Dean is _not_ going to let Castiel’s roaming hands distract him from the new objective of the mission, not even when they’re working their way up Dean’s tense shoulders, and down against the small of his back. Oh, no.  
Before they’ve even made it to the bedroom (Dean doesn’t even care whose it is at this point) his two layers of shirts are off, Cas’ black hair rumpled just from Dean’s fingers pulling and pushing on the strands. Their lips never seem to break, and they only do after Cas is harshly pushing kisses into Dean’s neck, eliciting some deep, lustful moans out of his throat.  
“Fuck, Cas.” He manages out, before he’s out of his jeans and being pushed onto the bed.  
The memory foam catches him well (so it is his room, though not that it mattered), and he falls back, murmuring little fragments of sentences that don’t make any sense in the least, pushing his knees down so he can take in the sight of Cas undressing, biting his swollen lips. Dean had never seen Cas so lust-stricken, so desperate, so _hungry_ for anything ever before, and damn if it isn’t sexy as _fuck_.  
In reply, his dick twitches in his boxers.  
Okay, so maybe he’d let Cas get the last word, just this once.  
He doesn’t have much of a moment to catch up before the angel has thrown himself on Dean, stripped down to just his underwear as well, his huge fabric-clad erection rubbing sinfully against Dean’s.  
It’s not long before Cas is peppering kisses down Dean’s jaw, sucking bruises and hickeys along his throat and scattering them across his chest. They send Dean on a wild ride, letting loud and _extremely hot_ noises escape his throat.  
And then, Cas’ mouth is surrounding Dean’s cotton-enclothed tent in his boxers, sending pleasure throughout his body.  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” he mutters, each time louder than before. He doesn’t bother to look down, but Cas is such a tease and it’s so annoying but it’s so utterly fucking _spectacular_ that he can’t complain.  
By the time his cock is actually free from the underwear, he’s legitimately whimpering. He could come right then and now by even the slightest movement, but _fuck_ this was so enjoyable that he didn’t want it to end, not now, not _ever_.  
He feels the cold air, then the warmth of Cas’ mouth on his tip, then slowly, teasingly on his length, then finally, swallowing him whole. His tongue is working miracles, swirling around his slit and tip and _God_ , does Dean want to scream. Taking a chance, he looks down, and Cas’ eyes are locked on his, and only does that make it all the more sexy.  
There’s a moment of silence where the sound of Castiel nearly gagging on Dean’s cock is the only sound that can be heard, until a tap on his thighs moves his legs apart. Castiel’s finger comes and teases Dean’s hole, rubbing against his opening. Dean’s half-thrusting up into Cas’ mouth as he finds a set rhythm of bobbing his head up and down onto his shaft. Wordlessly, he points to the drawer and Dean (though he has no clue why Cas knows where it is) pulls out the lube and tosses it next to him.  
It’s cold when the first finger slides into his hole, and Dean gasps at it, but it feels amazing -- he’s being fingered, scissored open. Slowly, Cas finds rhythm of finger and mouth, and soon, Dean is on the verge of coming as his prostate is activated.  
“Fuck, fuck, Cas!” he says, and nearly shouts it, but Cas doesn’t move, doesn’t even _flinch_ as he’s spewing his load into Cas’ throat. The orgasm makes him see white on the edge of his vision, sending him to the fucking _moon_. Castiel, helping Dean ride out the waves of pleasure with encouraging words, removes his mouth slowly with a small pop.  
He’s still coming down from his high when he gasps from the sudden loss as Castiel moves away and leaves him there, lying like a sick puppy. Suddenly, he’s flipped on his stomach,  
“Fuck,” Dean murmurs, and gets a reply.  
“Now, Dean.” Cas’ voice is deep and glazed with lust fucking sexy as _fuck_. By now, Dean knows exactly what Castiel wants, and he moves so he’s hovering over Dean on all fours.  
Dean nods his consent (whether or not Cas was going to actually ask it was questionable) and suddenly, he’s being filled with Castiel’s long, wide length. It’s slow to slide in, but it provides him with strength to release a few moans and gibberish and curses, because Cas is so huge that Dean can’t fucking believe it.  
Cas is pulling out, murmuring his own groans, and pushes in again, picking up speed as he goes. Before long, the only sounds that can be heard are either of the two’s moans and whimpers and “Oh, fuck”s and the sound of skin-slapping-skin. Castiel is thrusting his hips in abandon and Dean can tell he’s close, so he tries to help push him over that edge.  
“Yeah, Cas, c’mon, fuck me, give it to me, oh yeah, just like that, mm!” he cries, words slurred from pure pleasure of the moment. His hands are out, gripping the bed sheets, and _fuck_ , he might have to get a new bed frame if Cas keeps this up. He’s rolling his hips, thrusting so hard that Dean is seeing stars as he clenches around the strong cock.  
He slows, rolls his hips one last time, and with a loud groan and cry of “Dean, fuck!”, Cas is spilling himself inside of Dean. He waits for a while, like he’s climbing down the ladder that brought him up to that huge orgasm, before he pulls out of Dean and collapses beside him, muttering “Fuck.”  
Dean chuckles slightly when he sees how _annihilated_ he looks. They’re breathing heavily, but Dean manages to pant, “Cas, fuck.” (It’s really the only thing he’s said in the past ten minutes.)  
Cas has to wait a moment before he can even begin to feel his heartbeat slow and his breathing stabilize. When it does, he chuckles and speaks, words muffled by the mattress.  
“Look who got the last word.”


End file.
